Two of Cups
by starryjules
Summary: "Family and job...two different cups...and if I couldn't fill both that was my problem.  But what if I can now..."  You didn't think Tony - or I - would leave it at that, did you?  Tags 9x11 Newborn King.  More Tony/Gibbs and Tony/Ziva. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**You didn't really expect me to let that basement conversation go untagged... Especially after he put the 'work' cup back inside the 'family' cup. That was just Michael Weatherly's Christmas gift to all the fanfictioneers out here!**

**I have such love for Tony/Gibbs conversations... I think Tony would have been chewing on Gibbs' statements all through Christmas dinner and wouldn't be able to leave it alone afterwards.**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

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><p>"Thanks for the invite tonight."<p>

His eyes slid to the side to study Gibbs, but the older man just nodded in acknowledgement, his attention focused on the snowy roads. Tony found his hands tapping out a random melody on his thighs as he tried again.

"Amira seemed to really like her new bike...I bet she has the training wheels off by Easter." Gibbs still gave no reply. Tony grimaced as he stared out at the lights flashing by, his tapping falling in time with the repetitive bumps of the highway seams.

"You know I have never really been a big fan of lamb but…"

"DiNozzo..."

It was little more than a sigh; a tired, long and annoyed exhale. Unfortunately for Tony, he wasn't entirely sure at the moment if it was Gibbs' _get to the damn point already_ sigh or more of a _shut the hell up_. He went with the former as it suited his interests.

"When I was talking about the cups before… I just want to be sure we are, you know, on the same page."

Gibbs' mouth twisted in a way that instantly made Tony think he should have gone with _shut the hell up_. But then Gibbs gave one curt nod, "We are."

Common sense and a long history of head slaps told him to leave it at that. And yet his mouth moved again, words tumbling out of their own volition. Because the alternative - the possibility that they didn't have a mutual understanding after all - held too many disturbing ramifications to ignore. "Are you sure about that boss? It's just… If we are, then that means...that means that I'm going to have to break one of your rules in a big way…"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Tony grimaced at the grumbled retort, but he couldn't deny the truth in the statement. "I know. You just always seemed particularly adamant about some rules over...others. You gave me real shit about twelve this spring with EJ."

"Different situation, different application of the rules."

Tony's brow furrowed. At least he got Gibbs talking, but rather than clarifying the situation, that comment just confused him further. "Oh-kay?"

Gibbs' mouth twisted either with annoyance or impatience. Or both. "EJ distracted you from your work. That's why I was pissed."

"That, and you didn't like her."

He was rewarded with a smirk and a small nod in acquiescence. "That too. But at the end of the day, the rules all boil down to trusting your gut, trusting yourself. And what did you tell me in the basement tonight about the cups?"

"That I really think I can find a way to fill them both. To be dedicated and focused on my work and have a life and a family in the future…"

Gibbs nodded. "And what did I tell you to do?"

"To shit or get off the pot."

He earned a glare for the crass - but in his opinion apt - summation. "Well there ya go. You've got the only answer you need."

Tony didn't respond; he just stared out the window again, studying the lit Capitol dome in the distance. He gnawed on his bottom lip, thinking over the short and increasingly uncomfortable conversation.

"Gibbs, you know I'm talking about Ziva right?" The words came out before he could stop them, echoing loudly in the otherwise silent car.

Gibbs groaned. "I swear to God, DiNozzo, if you don't stop talking I'm going to leave you on the side of the road."

"Okay, just checking," Tony said quickly, content to leave the subject there before it got any more awkward.

It caught him off guard therefore when Gibbs spoke again. "Wouldn't wait too long if I were you," he said gruffly.

"Boss?"

His mouth twisted with a scowl, and Tony knew Gibbs was in the ninth circle of hell with this entire conversation. "She put in a leave request for New Years. She's heading to Miami."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well...okay then, thanks for the head's up." They were pulling up to Gibbs' house now, and Tony jumped out of the car almost before it was in park, grateful for an exit.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs called, getting out and looking at him from across the roof of his car. "Either of you screw this up, I will kick and/or fire your asses."

Tony was tempted to throw out a smart-ass comment or a cocky grin but he recognized the weight of the situation and how much they all had at stake, both professionally and personally. And so he met Gibbs' warning stare with an equally serious expression. "Understood."

Gibbs just nodded and walked toward his house.

"Merry Christmas!" Tony called after him. "And...thanks Gibbs." The older man didn't look back but gave a quick wave over his shoulder, leaving Tony alone to lean against his car and wonder if Ziva would even understand - and reciprocate - his sudden interest in those damn cups.

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><p><strong>This will be a couple of chapters unless the tag bunnies latch onto something more substantial. Please leave a note and let me know your thoughts and thanks as always for reading!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the amazing number of reviews/alerts...it is rather overwhelming and for the first time I am self-conscious about posting more. Particularly because c****hapter two went way off the rails from what was planned, but read the AN at the end for some reassurance...**

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><p>This was the second time he sat outside a woman's home today; it was starting to feel a little creepy and voyeuristic.<p>

Tony had left Gibbs' place full of confidence and determination. After all, he had managed to tell the boss; had scored Gibbs' permission - daresay blessing. But somewhere along the fifteen minute drive to Ziva's apartment, his resolve had lost some ground to whispered doubts and insecurities. The problem he realized, as he sat there watching his cold breath fog up the car window, was that he had absolutely no idea how to tell her. He didn't question his feelings; unlike this morning, he had no doubts that the woman inside this building was the one he wanted. But the actual admission to said woman...well that conversation had the potential to go pear-shaped in a big way. And their track record certainly didn't lend any assurances...

Despite his doubts, he couldn't quite make himself drive away either. After another fifteen minutes indecisively freezing his ass off in the dark car, he finally reached a tenuous compromise. At the very least, he could pass off his impromptu late-night visit as simple and friendly concern. After all, he hadn't seen her since last night when he and McGee had arrived on scene to discover destruction, a dead body, and a pissed off Ziva holding a handful of paper towels to a nasty gash on her shoulder blade. His knee-jerk joking remarks about her John McClane Christmas Eve had earned him a blank stare, and she left with Gibbs, Emma and the baby before he had a chance to make sure that she was truly okay.

_That__'__ll __work_, he thought to himself. If the opportunity presented itself tonight to tell her, he'd take it. If not, well then he was just an agent checking on his partner. After all, he had five more days until she left for Miami...plenty of time...

He tried not to think, as he stepped out into the frigid night, just how many ways that plan could blow up in his face.

Her delay in answering the door was starting to worry him, but then her drowsy expression and sleepy '_hi__' _suggested that he might have roused her from bed.

"Hi yourself. Did I wake you?"

She shrugged. "I dozed off in front of the TV."

"TCM Christmas classics?"

"_Scrooged_ marathon."

"Good girl." He smiled proudly and was given a languid, unguarded grin in return that was so freakin rewarding he had to really focus on what he wanted to ask. "How's the shoulder?"

The eye-roll was expected and delivered with a little huff. "I am fine, Tony."

"Nothing broken? You were favoring your left side last night."

"A few bumps, a couple stitches and a bruised rib. It's no big deal; I've had worse."

Tony grimaced because he unfortunately knew just how true that was. His gaze darted around the empty hallway, and he was suddenly and acutely at a loss for words.

"Hey," she called softly, studying his conflicted expression. "You wanna come in?"

He should have said said no. Should have just told her he was glad she was okay and left. But it seemed his damn mouth wasn't quite done making its own decisions tonight and answered her without permission. "Sure."

"How was dinner at Leyla's?" She asked, closing the door behind him.

He turned to her with a look of surprise. "How is it _everyone_ knew where I was having dinner tonight except me?"

She chuckled softly. "I had lunch with them last weekend…" Tony raised an eyebrow, but she just shrugged automatically and then winced as the movement pulled at her stitches. "We've always gotten along well. We get together from time to time now that they live in DC."

"You coulda come even if you don't celebrate Christmas. The food was good and Amira went nuts over the pink bike Gibbs gave her."

She smiled, sitting tenderly back on the couch and tucking her legs under a throw. "I know, maybe another time."

There was something more to it that she was leaving out, but he let it go for now. He sat on the other end of the sofa and allowed his eyes to wander candidly for several long seconds, drinking in the sight of at-home Ziva. He hadn't seen her outside of work-mode for months, and he forgot how much he liked the slightly tousled, more accessible woman before him now.

Tony's thoughts were definitely starting to stray into dangerous territory when she hit him with an icy dose of reality. "So did you go this morning? To Wendy's?"

"I did." His eyes flickered to hers, trying to gauge her reaction, but she just nodded.

"How was it?"

He sighed and turned towards her more, slinging his arm across the back of the couch. "I sat outside in my car for twenty minutes; couldn't make myself go in."

"Oh."

That single syllable sounded disappointed...or was it relieved? Her face gave nothing away and Tony silently cursed his complete inability to read his team members tonight. "Why were you so eager for me to go see Wendy?"

He tried to pretend that his voice didn't hold an accusatory edge, but she heard it and answered his question with one of her own in a carefully neutral tone. "Do I need a reason?"

"No. But you have one."

Her mouth twisted and he knew that he was right. "I have been thinking a lot about where we were this time last year. You were having... a rough time of it, weren't acting like yourself. You remember what I told you?"

"That you love me," he offered without thought.

"That WE love you," she clarified even as the corner of her mouth twitched gently upwards.

He gave his best joker's grin, trying quickly to cover in case she realized just how much he had obsessed over that conversation all year. "Same thing."

"There's no _I_ in the universal _we_."

"Sure there is. It's just silent like the 'p' in psychologist or psoriases."

There was no mistaking her look now as one of annoyance and maybe even disappointment at his humorous deflection. "Tony…"

The cheeky grin slipped and he sighed. "Okay, so you, what? Wanted me to be happy? Didn't want me to spend another holiday alone?" She just tilted her head in a maddeningly non-committal way. "I appreciate the concern, but Wendy is not going to make me happy…"

"Then why did you go?"

He fidgeted, picking at a loose thread on the back pillow. "Because everyone else seemed to think it was a good idea, and I thought they might be seeing something I didn't. Plus even after all these years, falling back in with Wendy would be safe...familiar. But sitting there in my ass-numbingly cold car, I just couldn't convince myself she's what I want. I don't think that's fair to anyone."

"What _do_ you want Tony?"

His eyes flashed back to hers, his mouth slightly agape. There it was; the perfect opening. She had lobbed him an easy pitch, and there were a dozen different ways to answer her now. He could babble on about the cups like he had to Gibbs and let her draw the obvious conclusions. He could speak in vague third-person terms about seeking a friend and a _partner_ and a lover. Someone who understood the demands of the job, the dedication, the long hours. Someone who could take his shit and throw it right back at him with amazing accuracy even through her muffed idioms. That would earn him a smirk; maybe she would roll her eyes and give him that special, surprisingly indulgent look that she seemed to reserve just for him.

In fact the longer he sat there pondering his answer in the increasingly uncomfortable silence, he realized he could simplify all that. Just three small letters were all it would take. The entire summation of his desires all came down to that one word - _you_. And if the look on her face was any indication now, it probably wouldn't be an unwelcome admission.

_Probably..._

But for the first time that night, Anthony DiNozzo had found control of his mouth. Because once that stupidly simple word was out - once he crossed that forbidden line that they'd toed and skirted and never dared cross in over six years - there would be absolutely no turning back. And as much as he needed and wanted her and was almost positive that she felt the same way, the nagging and self-loathing doubt swelled inside of him again and washed all his words away.

So with enormous effort, he let the pitch go by and gave her the only truth he could. "I'm still working on that…" Her eyes dropped to her hands and she gave the smallest of sighs even as she nodded. "I should have an answer soon though...," he offered. It sounded incredibly pathetic even to his own ears.

She met his eyes and gave him a small, sad smile. He had to look away then because it made his gut turn for reasons he couldn't quite place. His gaze flickered across the room, searching desperately for a change of subject, and for the first time he noticed the half-eaten bowl of soup and empty wineglass sitting on the coffee table. He found the solitary setting unreasonably upsetting.

"Ziva, why didn't you come to Leyla's tonight?" He asked softly, his thoughts returning to how she had sidestepped the question earlier. "It's not a day to sit home all alone and wallow."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Tony, to me it's just another day…"

"Good try. What's really got you upset?" It was unfair, and he knew it. He had just buried his emotions and was now asking her to reveal hers.

"I was just tired and sore and needed a quiet day at home."

To anyone else, it would seem logical, but it unsettled him further. The only reason she would ever cop to physical pain was to hide a deeper emotional trouble. "Ziva-"

"In fact Tony, I am rather tired now," she interrupted, standing up quickly.

"Okay," he mumbled after a long moment, mirroring her action. He suddenly hated himself for the missed opportunity, for even knocking on her door in the first place tonight. "See you at work Tuesday?"

She gave him a sardonic smile. "Or course. Just because it's the holidays, it doesn't mean anything will be different."

The double meaning was poorly veiled. "Yeah…yeah I suppose not." He turned to her when he was in the hallway once more, and something in her expression told him that it was his last chance to say something...anything. "Look Ziva-"

She leaned into him suddenly, unexpectedly, her soft lips brushing against his stubbly cheek. His eyes closed at the sensation, but it was over just as quickly as it came, her voice hardly above a whisper at his ear. "Merry Christmas Tony. I hope by this time next year, you'll have found what makes you happy…"

The door closed quietly in his face, and he was suddenly feeling like another door had closed without him even noticing it.

"You," he whispered quietly to the wood, wondering if she had lingered on the other side long enough to hear him.

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><p><strong>AN: Oh angst... I planned on wrapping up this little ficlet with a nice Christmas bow and a happily-ever-after in Chapter 2. But I just couldn't make it true to character. We love these two for their faults as well as their strengths, and I just don't think they would get the conversation right quite so quickly. But hang in there...there will be one or two more chapters and anyone who has read Drops knows that I'm a romantic at heart!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Monday the 26th was an observed holiday for feds. To top it off, the MCRT had worked Christmas Eve, which should have all but guaranteed a day off to relax and recover. But Tony woke Monday morning to a call at 5AM - having fallen asleep only two hours prior - and orders to gear up. An affluent Admiral had been found dead in the basement of his Potomac home, the carving knife from last night's Christmas dinner plunged in his back and eleven visiting relatives on the suspect list.

Gibbs had already called McGee and pointedly ordered Tony to "_Tell Ziva._" Something in Gibbs' tone suggested that the older man wasn't entirely sure if that would entail a phone call or simply turning over in bed...but that he had absolutely no interest in knowing as long as they were both at the crime scene within thirty minutes. Tony scowled as he pulled on a mostly-clean pair of jeans, thinking that the boss had more confidence in him than he deserved.

Ziva greeted him as if everything were perfectly normal when they arrived simultaneously but separately at the scene - a fact that did not go unnoticed by Gibbs. But she carefully avoided eye contact despite his best efforts, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that she had somehow changed the rules last night without telling him what game they were playing in the first place.

They fell into their professional routine, taking witness statements and diffusing half a dozen family arguments that culminated in physical intervention when the Admiral's sister started throwing punches at her sister-in-law.

"Jesus," McGee muttered, rubbing his rapidly swelling lip after the two women were locked in the back of separate cars. "Holidays sure can bring out the worst in people."

Tony caught Ziva's guarded gaze over the roof of the Charger, but then she looked away again just as quickly. He decided that he would talk to her tonight, and he would make everything right between them. After all, he still had time before she left for Miami...

Only they worked until 2300 on Monday and were back at the Yard by 0500 on Tuesday. And then Ziva made a point of saying she was going to bed early that night and pointedly issued a death-by-stale-candy-cane edict for anyone who disturbed her. Wednesday night she didn't answer his repeated phone calls and Thursday she was stuck on surveillance detail with McGee all night. Normally he could have at least intercepted her in the elevator or bathroom, but the case kept them inordinately busy, and Tony couldn't find three minutes to string together outside the company of their other team members.

As a poor consolation and bittersweet side-effect to the hectic case, they fell back into familiar patterns as the week progressed, some of the tension between them diffusing. But the status quo wasn't enough for him anymore, and he found himself growing increasingly anxious as his deadline loomed closer. He didn't know why, but his gut told him that if Ziva reunited with Ray to celebrate a glitzy Miami New Year's Eve, he might just lose her forever.

It wasn't until Friday's all-nighter gave way to Saturday morning that he finally found himself alone with her in the observation room, watching what was hopefully Gibbs' final interrogation on the case. After interviewing an endless litany of crazy family members, they had unearthed an illegitimate heir, discovered three long-term affairs, and stopped one additional murder plot that was already well underway. But in the end, it turned out that the Admiral had caught the family butler skimming money off the household funds. He may have even gotten away with the embezzlement and murder if the son-in-law hadn't tried the exact same thing and discovered that the money was already missing.

When the old man finally broke and admitted to dutifully cleaning and sharpening the Shun Classic before ramming it into his employer's back, Gibbs twisted in the chair to throw a look of disgust over his shoulder. Tony grinned widely and turned to a disbelieving Ziva.

Her mouth fell open before his gloating could even begin. "You were _right_! It is _always _the maid or butler. I can't believe it!"

He adopted a wounded look. "Gee, you don't have to sound so surprised."

She grinned back at him. "Pleasantly surprised! McGee and Abby owe me twenty bucks a hop. They had their money on the niece and second cousin."

"Okay first off, it's pop, not hop. And second, are you telling me you guys didn't let me in on the pool?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'll give you a cut of my winnings."

"Instead of twenty bucks-"

"Ten."

"Okay, instead of ten bucks, you _know _what would make me happier..." he grinned and cupped a hand to his ear expectantly.

She huffed and scowled, but it carried little weight under her playful expression. "Fine, you are an incredibly astute _Very_ Special Agent. We didn't include you in the pool because anyone would be a _fool_ to bet against you!"

She laughed outright at his smugly satisfied smile, and he didn't know whether it was the carefree sound, her perfect face, or the sleep deprivation, but suddenly everything just clicked and his world became ridiculously simple. Without a thought in the universe other than Ziva, he closed the short distance between them, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck as his lips crashed onto hers. She tensed in surprise, gasping into his mouth as her hands flew up to his chest. But rather than push him away as he expected - and probably deserved - they fisted into his shirt and pulled him closer.

For a few infinite seconds, nothing in the world existed outside of her - her lips, her skin, her body pressed tightly against his. But then reason or reality or some other external element forced its way in between them and she took a hard step back. Her eyes were wide, and he had no problems now reading her expression: shock, confusion, desire. All the emotions he knew she was seeing just as plainly on his own face. He racked his brain for what to say, but it was a step behind, still trying to process who'd given the order to go ahead and kiss her in the first place.

"Ziva…" He said breathlessly, waiting for eloquence to return. Speaking was the wrong thing to do though apparently; she unfroze and bolted for the door. He was two steps behind her but turned the corner and collided with Gibbs in the hallway.

"DiNozzo, what the hell!" He called angrily after him, but Tony ignored it, catching up to her just as the elevator doors were closing. He tried to squeeze through the panels as they bounced back open, but she held a hand out to his chest once more, her eyes flickering down to where his shirt had wrinkled under her fingers just seconds ago.

He rocked back on his heels but stayed there to keep the doors from shutting and taking her away from him. "Where are you going?"

Her face was completely shut down but for her eyes - always her eyes that could never shut up. "The case has wrapped. My flight leaves in a few hours. I need to go home and pack."

He stared at her incredulously. "You...you can't go now!"

Her reciprocated expression remained neutral. "Why not Tony? Because you kissed me? That doesn't change anything."

"Seriously?" The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He tried to take another step forward but her hand remained on his chest and kept him where he was. "Of course it does. Ziva, please. Just give me a minute to -"

She shook her head and allowed a small sigh to escape. "I can't do this anymore Tony. The back and forth...the almosts... It needs to stop."

He nodded. "I agree, I'm done. So stay with me and we'll work it out." He tried to ignore the pleading tone creeping into his voice.

"There's nothing to work out."

He threw up his hands in frustration; her controlled responses were really starting to piss him off. He briefly entertained the thought of kissing her again just to get a reaction, but common sense told him it was time to use words instead of actions. "Jesus Ziva, you asked me what I want and the answer is you. Just you. It's been you for years."

The delicate fingers on his chest twitched at this, and he could see how hard she was fighting to remain detached. "We can't. I can't…" Words failed her then; she struggled for several seconds before simply shaking her head quickly and looking away, towards the button for the garage level that was her only escape. "I just can't. I have to go."

"Ziva...please. I _can't_ lose you…"

That - that was what finally broke through her careful facade. Her eyes snapped back to his and he watched as his words caved her like a house of cards, the neutral and frozen expression shattering to the elevator floor. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to find the appropriate response, her voice barely above a whisper when she finally did. "You can't lose what was never yours Tony."

She shoved gently at his chest, pushed him back just enough for the silver panels to slide shut in front of him.

For the second time that week, she left him staring at a closed door.

He stared at his own hazy outline in the metal for several long seconds, trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened. Another corner of his brain weighed the satisfaction of ramming his fist into the offending doors against the reprimand and likely trip to the ER. He wisely abandoned that course of thought as he felt a sudden presence beside him, ignoring it for as long as he dared before sighing and glancing to his left.

Gibbs' glare promised violence.

Tony didn't give him a chance to speak, releasing his pent up anger on the elevator button before turning fully to face Gibbs. He was every bit a hardened federal agent when he met the cold stare and shook his head. "Hold onto that ass-kicking, boss. Curtain's not down yet."

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><p>He knew he could never beat her to her apartment, but he believed he had made good enough time to at least catch her before she left again. Unfortunately, after five minutes hammering on her door (and another two picking the lock) he was standing in her dark, empty hallway.<p>

Tony was back in his car and halfway to the freeway before he realized that he had no idea if she was flying out of Dulles or Reagan. Swearing under his breath, he called McGee and prayed he was still at the office finishing up the paperwork he and Ziva had just abandoned.

"Probie, I need a location on Ziva's cellphone right now."

"Why do you need Ziva's-"

"WILL YOU JUST DO IT MCGEE!"

There was suddenly a lot of muffled noise on the other end of the line and then silence for several beats.

"McGee is _not _running a trace on her cell, DiNozzo."

Tony winced at the acerbic tone, but he wasn't above pleading today. "Boss I just need to know where…"

He was interrupted by a heaved, aggravated sigh. "Dulles. United."

He vowed to buy Gibbs a year's worth of bourbon when this was all done. "Thanks boss..."

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><p>There was an accident on the 267, and the forty-minute drive to Dulles turned into an hour-plus even with his dozen traffic violations. The only United flight to Miami was already taxying when he finally made it inside, and he seriously considered flashing his badge at the nearest TSA employee and ordering them to return it to the gate. He opted for a lateral move to a less-illegal (though no less crazy) plan of action and fought his way through the holiday travelers to the nearest counter. But the airline agent was unimpressed when he flashed his badge anyways and outright laughed when he demanded a ticket on the next flight to Miami. The holiday weekend, combined with a week of snow and below-average lows had created a mass exodus for warmer and sunnier locales. It wasn't his fault Florida topped those lists.<p>

After the agent finally stopped chuckling and met his seething expression, she at least offered to put him on standby. Tony grunted his thanks, did the same at three other airline's counters, and then settled in to wait. But each new opportunity just brought attendants over the intercom offering people vouchers to give up their seat on the ridiculously overbooked flights. After eight hours of crappy airport coffee, he accepted that he never stood a chance.

Never stood a freaking chance…

He returned, alone, to an empty apartment and knocked back three shots in quick succession before impulsively pulling out his phone and punching in her speed dial. He wasn't all that surprised that it went right to voicemail: a robotic, automated greeting. He wouldn't even get to hear her voice one more time in 2011.

He started talking a few seconds before the beep, the words flowing freely because - as she so kindly pointed out to him - he had nothing to lose.

"Hey, just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year. I'd say I'm sorry about earlier, but I'm not. I'm glad I kissed you. I'd gladly kiss you again every day for the rest of my life if you'd just let me. I even tried to come after you tonight. Tried to sweep you off your feet at the airport. Tried to get a flight to Miami to come find you and steal you away from CIRay. Probably a good thing I couldn't get a flight anywhere though. Woulda been a kind of assholish move to ruin your wonderful New Years plans with the man you love and who loves you. I just need you to know that you didn't have to go to freakin Florida to find that. You've never needed to go any further than across the bullpen to find a man who lo-"

Her voicemail beeped, cutting him off, and he stared into the receiver with disgust for several seconds before pitching the damned thing across the room. Even her phone wouldn't hear him out; wouldn't give him a chance to say all the things he needed to. He left the offensive object where it landed and grabbed the booze, settling in front of the TV with a tired sigh.

As much as he wanted to drink himself into oblivion, he couldn't even find the motivation to do that properly. He couldn't shut off his thoughts, particularly the corner of his film-loving brain that spun scenes of her showing up at his door just before midnight, breathless, having rushed in from the airport (somehow finding a flight where he could not) because she realized that he was the one she wanted to kiss as the ball dropped. Cue the music, an inspired score by John or Hans...the fireworks streaming in through the windows as their lips meet again and the scene fades to black...

But this wasn't one of his movies, and midnight came and went with no more company than his bottle of scotch and an endless parade of regrets. His last thought as he drifted off, watching Carson Daley dancing with Cee Lo Green amidst a storm of glittering confetti, was that he was starting the New Year with his own dropped ball. A missed opportunity that he could never, never get back.

Sleep was a welcome escape.

Still, his dreams would have been far less troubled if he knew that she was, at that very moment, driving wildly through the crowded streets of Miami on her way to the airport.

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><p><strong>Ooh damn me! I keep extending this just one more chapter, but the next will truly be the last! The set up here took longer than I planned, so this seemed a good place for a split...working on the last bit now.<strong>

**Thanks as always for reading! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I felt bad for the cliffy, so I'm posting this without further ado for everyone's sanity...and Styx's hair!**

**Just a quick disclaimer to say that I've bumped the rating to a T. This is still incredibly, _incredibly _tame, but there are a few innuendoes at the end, and I'd rather be on the safe side.**

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><p>The first thought that penetrated his sleepy haze was that the pounding in his head was disproportionately louder than the liquor consumed last night. He had only had a few shots, not enough to even register as a blip on the record of DiNozzo drunkenness. He stretched wearily, flipping over on the couch much to the protest of his back and blinked at the digital clock on his DVD player.<p>

_5:30AM_

It was around the third blink that he finally realized the banging was not actually in his head but emanating from the front door. Bewildered, he stood too quickly, tripping over the remote and wincing as several of his joints cracked. He was already rubbing his eyes when he opened the door and then continued to do so for several seconds more, wondering idly if he'd had a bad bottle of liquor. Only that could explain the apparition before him just as he'd pictured her last night: eyes wide, breathless, her hand still raised comically in midair.

It wasn't until his specter gave a breathy _Hi_ that he stopped and took a moment to wonder that she may actually be real.

"Hi," he mumbled in return, an awkward silence settling fast and thick.

"You're here…" Tony said finally. He wasn't sure if he was stating fact, asking a question, or hurling an accusation. If the look on her face as she chewed her lip was any indication, neither did she.

"Yes...yes I am here…" she said softly.

Tony nodded, rubbing his eyes again and running a hand through his wayward hair. "C'mon. Kitchen. Caffeine."

He left the door open and listened carefully, breathing out a slow sigh of relief when he heard it close and the padding of her soft feet following him. He put a pot of water on to boil and dug out her favorite tea before working on the coffee, glad for the task to allow him time to fully wake up and then find some composure beneath his rapidly beating heart. She watched him without saying a word, and he didn't look at her until he was sitting at the table, mugs before them both.

"I am sorry…" she blurted out suddenly. "It was...wrong of me to leave as I did yesterday. I know I hurt you."

He took a sip of the scalding liquid to buy some time before responding. "Why did you?"

She slouched down in her chair, her hands toying with the cup as she dropped her gaze. "I was not lying when I said I couldn't do it anymore. This year has been...difficult."

Tony scoffed before he could stop himself, but her grim smile told him that she understood why. It _had _been a difficult year, preceded by several of the same dating back to early childhood for them both.

"And then Christmas Eve," she continued quietly. "It just wasn't a good night."

He arched an eyebrow in confusion. "You saved two lives."

"And I ended one."

His mouth opened again but then he shut it just as quickly, swallowing down the '_wasn't the first time.'_

She knew him well enough to hear the remark even in his silence. "I know it was necessary. But it has been a long, long time since I killed someone so...physically."

Tony nodded. He was starting to see where she was going, but he could also tell that she wanted - needed - to talk it out.

"Emma was ready to deliver, and Gibbs ordered me to stay and help her. She stopped him, specifically asked him to stay instead of me…"

"Ziva-"

She waved off his concerned tone. "I know...Gibbs was a Marine, she felt a kinship with him, and I don't begrudge her for that in the slightest. But as I pulled out my backup and took my position outside, I realized that he was also the _logical _choice to stay with her. I am a more efficient killer than Gibbs, it's what I was trained to do. I'm just...tired...of being that person."

She took a sip of tea and lost herself in some thought for awhile as Tony studied her face. Her musings had taken her further back than he had expected when she finally spoke again.

"In Mossad, my nickname was_ Malachit HaMavet_. Little Angel of Death…"

Tony had a sudden flash from years ago, laying beside her on a hanger rooftop, a rifle tucked familiarly under her arm as Jenny whispered orders in their ears. _Archangel_, that had been her code name then. It had always seemed so appropriate.

"I used to take...pride...in it. But when I came here, to NCIS, I felt like I was moving away from that person, becoming someone better. And then after Somalia, I thought I had finally escaped my past. I thought that I could have a fresh start."

Tony knew that feeling well enough himself but was still surprised to hear her verbalize it. "You can have a fresh start in the sense of becoming a better person, but that doesn't mean you can run away from who you were in your past, believe me...you gotta learn to make your peace with it."

She paused, cocking her head to the side as she thought over his words. "That's rather prophetic."

"I have my moments."

She chuckled ever so softly and nodded. "You certainly do. Christmas Eve brought all those…" He could tell she wanted to say _feelings _or _fears_ or _insecurities_, but couldn't quite bring herself to. "Brought all that back to the surface. It's different, yes? Shooting someone and killing a person in hand-to-hand. It shouldn't be, but it is. And I was disturbed how easily it all came back to me. I heard the baby cry out a few seconds before I heard the Russian's neck snap…"

She shuddered suddenly, and Tony reached out a hand toward hers. She flinched away, but he could see that it wasn't because she didn't want the comfort. She needed it. No, she pulled away because she saw herself as damaged, didn't think she was worthy of comforting. He reached further, curling his fingers into her palm and rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. He took it as a good sign that she didn't pull away again.

"Afterwards, when I went back to the car, Gibbs asked me to hold the baby for a minute while he finished up with Emma. But...I couldn't. I'd just killed someone with my bare hands, I had blood trickling out of my mouth, down the back of my arm, and he wanted to hand me an innocent young life. It's going to sound ridiculous but-"

"But you didn't feel worthy."

Her expression was surprised, but gratefully so, relieved that he understood so quickly. "Yes. Yes, exactly."

She dropped her eyes to the table then, and his own gaze traced the visual path of his musings. From her troubled face that had shown him more emotion in the last twelve months than in their prior five years combined. Across her jawline, to the thin scar he knew lay just behind her ear. One of too many mars on her body; a reminder of the entire day she spent bleeding into hay while Tony feared the worst. Down her slender arms that had wrapped so tightly around him as she cried for Mike Franks. Holding onto her petite and sobbing frame, he had been suddenly and painfully aware that she wasn't even thirty and had already seen and done and lost too much for a dozen lifetimes. Further down still his gaze traveled, to the hands that had held onto Captain Quincy's as he took his last breaths in the sands of Afghanistan. She returned uncharacteristically upset and sad for reasons that Tony was still working out and only now beginning to understand.

His eyes settled on the fingers in his grasp now, hesitantly taking in the comfort and reassurance he would always offer freely to the woman before him. The woman who felt unworthy to receive any of it.

_It is justified. I do not deserve it._

Those words had haunted him for years, and in that moment, he was sure that she had never been more honest and open than when she told him that.

"You're worthy," he said finally, watching as her gaze slowly, reluctantly, met his again. "Ziva," he squeezed her hand for emphasis. "You're not damaged. You're not an angel of death. You are Ziva David, our strong, witty, hard-working, idiom-challenged ninja probette. And that is why we love you," he added after a moment, happy to repay the words she had offered him once.

She took them with a grateful smile. "Thank you Tony." She took a deep breath and Tony recognized the expression as her 'surpassed my talking-about-emotions quota.' But her fingers wrapped firmly around his, and she seemingly fought her instincts and spoke again.

"I didn't tell you all this to make you feel sorry for me or make excuses for being so...cruel to you yesterday. I wanted you to understand where my head was this week. When you came over Sunday night, I wasn't in a good place. I was glad to see you though; you are...comforting to me. But I let my guard down too much, I pushed the conversation in a dangerous direction. And it...it scared me as much as I think it scared you. Maybe more. Our team is the only constant in my life. The only people I can depend on unequivocally; who I know would go to the ends of the earth for me, because you already have. Changing this," she pointed between the two of them with her other hand, "runs the risk of losing that. And I -" her voice caught, and she seemed ashamed as she looked down. "I can't lose you either…"

She squeezed his hand, looking back up with an apology for her lancing words in the elevator. "I almost said it yesterday, but I was too afraid. And then you went and said it where I could not, and it was all just too much. So I ran. I went to Ray because he is safe and easy and I have nothing to lose with him. We were supposed to go out last night, to some party on South Beach, but I told Ray that I just wanted to ding in the New Years with him at his place. He was clearly disappointed."

Tony couldn't hide his scowl. If Ziva had told him that, he would have lovingly corrected the idiom and then gladly locked them in his bedroom with a bottle of champagne and a couple of noisemakers for the remainder of the long weekend. He seldom faltered from his original impression of Ray Cruz: the man was a fool.

Ziva was studying him in a way that strongly suggested she could read his thoughts at the moment. The corner of her mouth tugged up with the shadow of a smile even as she continued. "I told him about Christmas Eve, and he didn't understand why I was so upset. He said I should speak to a counselor at work or maybe take some time off to recover."

"Well that's a stupid suggestion," Tony offered before he could stop himself.

"That is what I said."

He allowed a grin. "Of course it is."

She gave a soft laugh, flipping their hands over gently so that his was on the bottom, facing upwards. She lightly traced over the lines on his palm, and he marveled at how familiar and natural and intimate her touch felt against his skin. "I realized then that I did not want safe and familiar if it meant being with a man who doesn't understand me at all. I...I think Ray is my Wendy. I _should_ want to be with him, but he's not what I want either."

She was studying him now and he could see she was trying to determine if she'd overstepped with the comparison. But it seemed like a pretty good analogy to him.

"We're both idiots," he said with a smirk. "We want what we shouldn't."

"Who we shouldn't," she corrected softly, her fingers still trailing over his hand. "Tony, it is important that you know he wasn't my first choice and I'm only here because I changed my mind or-"

"I know."

"It was never ever really a choice, it's always been you…"

"Ziva, I know," he said quietly, and she fell silent again with a slightly contented smile that Tony returned in spades. "So that's it?"

She laughed outright now. "What, were you expecting fireworks and fanfare?"

He smirked as he remembered his movie-fantasy from last night. "Maybe. I mean, it seems we just reached this conclusion rather simply."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You call the last few days...few _years_ simple?"

"Okay, maybe not. So now what?"

The smile grew, and her expression was lighter, more peaceful and playful than it had been in too long. "Well...you want me?" She checked, standing up and moving towards him. He leaned back in the chair and smiled up at her.

"Yes."

She straddled his legs, sitting on his lap, facing him. "And I want you."

His hands settled on her hips with uncanny familiarity. "Sure seems like it."

Her lips hovered inches from his as her eyes flicked over his face. "Well Tony, what happens now should be fairly obvious…"

The kiss was even better than the last. Tony couldn't help but think that they still had a few things to work out: his concern for her nagging doubts of self-worth; plans on how in the hell they were going to balance whatever this was against work; and a couple of words he was sure would escape his lips before the day was done.

But he wrapped his arms around her waist and stood up, smiling around her small gasp of surprise at the sudden movement. As he carried her from the kitchen, he decided that could all wait a little longer.

After all, they had all the time in the world now.

* * *

><p>"What are we going to do about Gibbs and rule twelve?"<p>

He found it comical that it took her nearly eighteen hours to consider that possibility. His eyes wandered over the bare legs, the messy curls, the OSU shirt that was at least three sizes too large on her. He met her suddenly alarmed expression and he grinned back, leaning forward to take a bite off the pizza that was frozen halfway to her mouth.

She shoved him away with a playful laugh and dropped the slice back on her plate. "I'm serious, he'd kills us both if he knew what we've been up to today."

"I don't think Gibbs is going to be a problem."

Her look expressed concern for his mental state, and he had the good grace to look slightly abashed. "Gibbs already knows." Concern turned to disbelief and panic, but he just continued with a shrug. "In fact, he's sort of been our own little relationship fairy godmother all week."

She shook her head doubtfully, but if he wasn't worried, she wouldn't be either. "You better hope I never tell Gibbs you called him a fairy." That he had said - and she accepted - 'relationship' without a second-thought spoke volumes.

Tony stretched out on the bed, turning on his side and propping his head in his hand so he could keep looking at her. "Eh... He was so ready to kick my ass yesterday; he'll just be relieved we worked it out without me making a scene at the airport or in Florida."

She raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"Is that a request? Kidding! Kidding…" he gasped as her foot retreated a few inches from its target, her expression smug. "Just don't feed me straight lines! Didn't you get my message?"

Her brow furrowed and her lips puckered in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Jesus, seriously? You never got my voicemail?"

She shook her head, "I left so suddenly I forgot my charger, and my cell died somewhere over Georgia." He stared at her, mouth agape, but she pressed impatiently for answers. "You went to the airport?"

"Yeah...yeah I waited around there all day trying to get on a flight to Miami. Freaking weekend snowbirds all had the same idea though apparently."

Her expression was a little unreadable now. She was either incredibly touched or suddenly wondering if she was in bed with a closeted stalker. "You tried to come after me," she said softly, a warm smile spreading on her face.

He sighed in relief and gave her the most sincere promise he could offer. "To the ends of the earth."

The pizza was relocated unceremoniously to the floor as she was suddenly on top of him, her lips seeking his.

"What did the message say?" She mumbled against his mouth. Tony chuckled at her curiosity before hooking her leg and flipping her gently on her back.

He leaned over her now, his lips tracing lightly across her jawline. "That I tried to come after you." He continued his path down to the pulse point just below her ear. "That I'm glad I kissed you and will happily do so every day for the rest of your life if you'll let me."

Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him back slightly to meet her eyes. "Is that all?"

"Mostly. Your machine sucks; it cut me off."

His mouth returned to its ministrations at her neck, and she did nothing to stop him. "Tony, you ramble."

"Mmmhm, one of my _many_ talents."

"Oh, I know," she laughed, so freely that he couldn't help but join in. But then he stopped, turning an ear to the soft chime of the mantle clock in his living room. It had been his mother's; one of the few things from his childhood that survived his many relocations.

"Midnight," he said with a smile, leaning in to capture her lips once more. "Happy New Year."

She was a little breathless when she spoke again. "You're twenty-four hours late."

"Better late than never."

* * *

><p><strong>I am so happy with how this chapter came out, and I hope you are too! The final section is a little bonus; it was supposed to end after the last break, but I wasn't quite ready to put it down and I didn't think you'd all mind. :)<strong>

**Now firstly, a question. I have even more bouncing around in my head on Ziva's frame of mind following _Newborn King_, and I'm toying with the idea of either doing a companion piece from her POV or doing a completely separate fic dealing more with emotion than romance. Thoughts? It is also very likely I will do another story building on this one, but there are a few other projects to finish up first.**

**And second, here is a little title fact about the double play on Tony's two cups and the Two OF Cups for the Abby-tarot-dabblers. There are endless interpretations of the Two of Cups, but Wikipedia has a pretty decent summation:**

_There is romance between them, a sexual attraction. The Two of Cups shows power that is created when two come together...The Two of Cups has a deeper meaning as well. Whenever two forces are drawn together, there is the potential for bonding. This card can stand for the union of any two entities - people, groups, ideas, or talents. In readings, the Two of Cups tells you to look for connections in your life, especially those that are one-on-one. Now is not the time to separate or stay apart. It is the time to join with another and work as a partnership. If you are in conflict, look for truce and the chance to forgive and be forgiven. If you are struggling with two choices or tendencies within yourself, seek to reconcile them._

**Thank you as always for all of your amazing reviews and support. Happy reading in 2012! :)**


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